Dying Over You
by emsterloo
Summary: Being a girl spy is hard enough, but what happens when you throw a guy(who happens to be super hot and an enemy spy) into the mix? Cammie's flawless life collapses in a matter of seconds. Can she trust him with her life and her darkest secrets? And if she does, will it kill her to do so? Rated T for language.
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

A girl stands alone on the street, unnoticed by the passing cars. Her dirty-blonde hair peeking out from under her blue knit cap looks gold in the glare of the vibrant sunset. It's early winter and although it's barely six o'clock, dusk will fall in a few short hours.

She pulls her brown jacket tight against her body and pulls her cap lower on her head. Snow falls slowly in lazy, twirling patterns and she has a flush to her cheeks from the cold.

Cars pass slowly on the road, making slush and sending sheets of water onto the wet sidewalk. Shivering, she darts across the street. She merges carefully with a small group going into a bar and ducks inside.

As her eyes adjust to the dimness inside, she takes in her surroundings. A long counter runs along the left wall with many seats, but few are taken. Bartenders refill drinks and orders from behind the counter and curvy girls in skimpy outfits line the bar, captivating several mens' attention. Clinks of glasses and gruff voices fill the tiny space.

One of the bartenders looks at her for a full minute(56.74 seconds to be exact). He is eyeing her because she is obviously not old enough to drink.

The girl's eyes skim over a few small tables and she pulls up a chair at one of the empty ones. The chair's legs scrape loudly across the floor and the cushion is torn in several places. As she takes her seat, she pulls out a beat-up menu and flips through it absently. Her eyes flick to the right. Booths line the wall, and many are already filled.

She notices a young man sitting in the booth in the farthest corner. A short mess of black hair sits on his head and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He's alone and seems absorbed in reading his textbook. Squinting a bit, the girl focuses in on the cover. _Differential Calculus_

Her mind reels. That is extremely heavy reading material...especially for a person in a bar like this.

Her senses go into alert mode. Scanning the customers at the bar, she takes in everything about them. A few of them are guys no older than her. As she looks at each one out of the corner of her eye, she meets the gaze of one of the guys her age.

He's staring at her openly. His emerald-green eyes run up and down her body several times before returning her gaze. Even in the dark she can tell he's ruggedly handsome. His dark hair is perfectly messy and neat at the same time and broad shoulders lead way to muscular forearms. Something about him screams mysterious and she can't help feeling the need to touch him to make sure he's real. Almost as if he knows her thoughts, the side of his mouth turns up into a smirk. An incredibly sexy smirk.

One of his friends notices and glances at her with a dark glint in his eyes before returning to his drink. Even though green-eyes is amazingly hot, his friend looks like a Greek god. The girl inside her can't help but drool.

The green-eyed guy is still staring at her intensely and the spy in her can't help but notice the infinitesimal movement of his lips that give him away for what he truly is. As he whispers into his hidden comms unit, she notes the sudden shift of intensity in the other two boys. Their backs become tense and their bodies are stiff. Anyone that wasn't a spy would be fooled and think they were just relaxing after a long day at work. Together, the guy in the back-corner booth and the Greek god begin to stand and move towards her.

Nonchalantly, she backs out of the bar and onto the dark street. Adrenaline courses through her veins and she sprints down the street to the waiting van. She hears fast approaching footsteps behind her, muffled by the freshly fallen snow.

"Step on it!" She screams at the petite girl behind the wheel as she slides onto the leather passenger seat.

The two other girls that had waited anxiously in the van, one with silky black hair and the other with cappuccino skin, begin pelting her with questions and demanding answers. But even as all three girls' voices gain volume, she never removes her gaze the tinted window. She stares at the three boys that had just exited the bar and the anger in their eyes as the van screeches away from the curb.

The girl shudders and shakes her head to the fast coming questions. She couldn't even go out and do a small recon mission without being tailed or found. As her friends quiet down she says two small words that have a very large impact on the occupants of the van. Everything is silent except for the snow landing on the roof of the car or the windshield wipers rubbing back and forth on the glass when the girl quietly says,

"_They're here."_


	2. The Enemy

Crawling through secret passages is never a good idea even in daylight, so I don't know why my roommates and I attempted to travel through one in the pitch-black of night.

Spider webs, dust, and grime coat our clothes in a thick layer. Lack of sleep makes us stumble blindly around turns and we must have made ten wrong turns already.

I hear a dull thud from behind me. Turning, I see Liz on the filthy, stone floor. I stare at her questioningly.

"Oopsie daisy. I ran into the wall," she said. Even with the seriousness of the situation, I can't help but smile a little at this. Liz is the clumsiest of us. It's a good thing she's on the Research and Development track instead of field work. She would get us all killed.

My stomach squeezes. I could have gotten killed tonight. Shivering against the fear and the temperature, I rub my small hands up and down my arms.

We make our way through the hidden doorway behind the Gallagher family tree and cautiously climb the grand staircase. Our bare-feet hitting the cool stone steps is the only sound made throughout the mansion at this late hour. No one stops us as we dash through the halls, our feet pounding on the carpeting, slowing only to quietly sneak past our classmates rooms.

I throw open the door to our room at Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, making it smack against the wall behind it. I flop down on my un-made bed, the springs squeaking in protest.

My three roommates follow me in quickly, cautiously closing the door behind them with a soft click only trained spies might hear. The girls send me disapproving glances. I could have woken up teachers and other students with my noisy entrance.

I tear off the curly dishwater-blonde wig to reveal the my hair underneath, just straight and a little darker brown. I slide the blue contacts out of my eyes, pull off the fake nose and teeth and the cross necklace over my head.

I always bring the necklace with me. It doubles as a camera. I survived my first CoveOps mission wearing this necklace, so I like to think it's good luck. But that mission was also the first time I met Josh. He was the first boy to see me while I had my cover on. And at the time, it made me feel special. Like I was worth noticing. Like I might actually be pretty or cute.

We had snuck out tonight to do a recon mission on him. Being spies, we hacked into Josh's email and phone messages to track(some people might call it stalking) him and his so-called girlfriend. We had overheard they were heading to the bar I had gone, but they must have changed their minds at the last-minute.

I'm still not sure if I'm over Josh. I still get a fluttery feeling in my stomach when I think of how good the first kiss with him felt; his soft lips on mine. He never pushed me to go farther than I wanted. Sometimes I think of how sweet and compassionate he was; to not only me but everyone around him and it warms my heart. But I still really want to be over him. I want to forget he ever existed. Having a relationship a sneaking off campus to see him caused me an enormous amount of trouble. And when I had to say goodbye and end it, my heart broke just like his. He made me feel normal -as normal as a spy-in-training can be- and I enjoyed that for the short time we were together.

But, like all good things, our relationship ended when my mom and Mr. Solomon found out.

For the next few months, I was grounded to the mansion's grounds and watched _constantly_. Even though I hadn't taken a step off the school's property for anything besides CoveOps exercises before Josh, those months grounded seemed to go on forever. I was completely miserable. I stuck to myself and completely shut down. Classes blurred together and I barely maintained my 105.36% grade average. But my old self eventually returned with help from my best friends.

But while they could help with my pain over Josh, they couldn't help me sort through my feelings.

I can hardly figure out my feelings out for Josh, but I've been told no one ever forgets their first love. But I don't know if what I felt toward him was love, are just an insignificant crush.

During the mission, my roommates and I were trying to find out how serious he and the girl were, because like most 17-year old girls, I get jealous. But sadly, we didn't...

We had planned that one recon mission for weeks, and it seemed almost sad that three highly intelligent spies-in-training were unable to pull off such a simple recon.

Before the interrogation can start, I sprint through the enclosed space to the bathroom, grabbing a clean uniform off the top of my dresser. I have a gut feeling that we won't be falling asleep tonight. And being a smart planner, I might as well prepare for the morning.

Once inside the bathroom I wipe and scrub away the light makeup Macey had applied a few hours before. I slip into my plaid skirt and tug the blouse over my snarly hair. Trying to snag through the snarls with my hand, I head back into the main room, my hand still working its way through my hair.

As I enter the room, I notice that the door isn't locked. The answers they want to hear aren't meant for the ears of our fellow classmates. I peek my head quickly into the hallway to make sure everyone is still in their rooms before bolting the door. We don't want anyone walking in on our private conversation either.

"Tell us everything!" Bex whispers excitedly, when the door is safely closed and locked.

Her dark hair is slightly messy around her face from the rush of the mission and her slightly dark skin stands out, even in the lack of light. I know there's adrenaline pumping through her veins; its coursing through mine, too.

Bex's parents work in Brooklyn and she joins them every break on missions. She has a heavy British accent that slips into her voice when she's distressed. Since her parents are highly trained M-16 operatives, she is also the strongest and toughest Gallagher Girl on campus. Her amber-colored eyes stare hard into mine, like she might be able to will the information out of my mouth.

And knowing Bex, the most impatient of us, I'm not surprised when she anxiously asks, "What the bloody hell happened?!"

I start, "Guys-"

"Cammie! What happened in there?" Liz interrupts, practically bouncing in anticipation.

Her blonde pixie cut makes her seem innocent, but Liz Sutton is anything but innocent. She's dangerous, but not the way you expect. Liz is the smartest Gallagher Girl in the school and has invented a ton of things; including a new alarm system for the CIA, a security system for the White House, and the van we used tonight to get into Roseville.

Roseville is the quaint, little country town surrounding the Gallagher Academy. We go there for most of our CoveOps exercises.

I feel a brief flash of annoyance that she cut me off. I barely talk at all, but when I do, I want my thoughts to be heard. Much to everyone's surprise, I like to be seen once in a while. I feel terrible for being annoyed at sweet Liz, but I'm guessing part of it is my nerves.

Liz sits down beside me, her eyes wide with anticipation. I spill _everything_ to my friends, and they know something big went wrong in the bar. Plus, it's hard to keep secrets when you spend all day with them and are spies. But I would tell them anyways. They know what secrets need to be shared and which ones need to be kept quiet. I want to tell them what happened, I truly do.

I can feel my mouth opening and closing, but nothing comes out; I can't find the words. Dread is a tight knot in my stomach.

I shudder internally and hug my elbows to my chest. They had been so close. How could they have been so close? How did they even know we were going to go there? And the most important question of all: Who the heck are they?

"Cammie? Are_ you_ okay?" Macey asks. Concern and worry are sketched in the lines of her smooth face.

Macey has always been the best listener of us. She and I are really close even though she just came to Gallagher Academy last year. She's the vice president's daughter, our fashion advisor, and school-wide boy translator.

According to many guys, she's 'smoking hot' with her long legs, diamond nose stud, and high-end clothing. Jet-black hair frames a face that belongs on a magazine cover (which it would be if she hadn't turned down the offer) and brilliant blue eyes are what pull in many guys.

I nod slowly and finally speak after the long, tense silence that had surrounded me since we had pulled away from the curb back at the bar. Putting on a brave face, I hide my uneasiness and just let the words needed flow out. "Operatives were there... They found me."

Bex doesn't even flinch. "How do you know the people in there were operatives?"

"Bex," I say in a _duh_ voice. "I'm a spy. I know how to spot that sort of thing."

"Who do you think they were?" Macey asked.

"I don't know," I say quietly, facing the shaky hands sitting in my lap. I pick at a hangnail on one finger as my mind tumbles over the questions and the scene that had played before me.

Finally, the spy in me takes control. I recall what my senses told me from the moment I stepped into the disheveled bar to the moment I fled from it.

"There were three of them, all guys our age. When I walked in, one of them was drinking, one was reading..." I take a deep breath to calm myself before muttering, "...and one was staring at me."

My friends gape at me; their jaws dropping open farther than I would've thought possible. No one besides Josh -_no one_- has ever seen me while I was on a mission. I'm the Chameleon for a reason, people don't recognize me when I assume a cover.

Macey raises an eyebrow and an evil smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "What if this guy is just like Josh? You should totally hook up! This relationship doesn't have to end like the other one did! You need a good, nice boyfriend to deal with the stress. And this guy is definitely _good._" She nudges my shoulder suggestively. "If you know what I mean."

I watch Macey. I'm touched that she would give up a chance with this guy for me, but I don't know if it's some evil scheme to get her and him together. She's thinking hard about this and I start to feel ashamed that I would doubt her.

"But in order to get you two together, we would have to know who they are..."

"I don't think we should be wondering about _who_ they were, but _why_ they were there. Why were they at the same place you were the exact moment you were? Why did they decide to tail you? Were they even after you, or were they there with a different goal in mind?" Liz questions us with her hand cupping her chin thoughtfully. She's the smartest and most thoughtful, always analyzing every piece of data possible.

I mull over her questions, but my brain is so clogged I can't think straight. But I'm still the first one to break the silence and answer.

"I don't know anything. I only know what I told you guys. But I felt like... like they were dangerous. Like I should avoid them, now that I think about it. I know it for a fact, they were there for me."

"Well that clears everything up," Bex says sarcastically.

I look at my friends and watch their faces turn over every piece of information I had given them again. Liz, as always, figures something out before we do. I can almost see the gears working in her head and the light bulb appearing above it.

Her face lights up and her skinny arms start waving in the air like she's flagging an airplane. "Wait. Why don't we check Cammie's necklace? It's a camera so it should have taken pictures!" she says excitedly.

Bex face-palms. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Liz leans over me to grab the necklace and races to her computer. She types in a few codes and plugs in the necklace. Then, the screen turns black before the pictures appear.

I don't know if it was only me, but I feel my heart speed up wildly at the possibility of what we might find.

* * *

My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket, the caller ID glowing.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath. I flip it open and take a deep breath.

"How could you have let her get away?!" The voice screams in my ear, making me pull away from the phone quickly.

"I will fix it as soon as I can, sir. Don't worry, we'll find her," I answer replacing the phone at my ear.

"You better! Remember-"

"Yes, I know, sir," I answer quickly. If the other agents had overheard what he was about to say he would've had a major problem.

"Good. Now, complete your mission. This better be the last time I have to say it. I don't want to go to that town and do it myself. Got it?!"

"Yes, sir."

I hear the line go dead.

"What did he say?" My partner asks. "Was he mad?"

"Of course he was mad!" I reply sharply. "We've failed this mission a dozen times already! We're not going to be getting any more do-over's."

The blood drains from his face. "Then, we better get to work."

I nod fiercely and turn to the other boy who has been quietly taking it all in.

"Jonas, I want you to hack into the CIA website and find out if there are any... field trips our Gallagher Girl will be taking outside the mansion. I also want you to find the blueprints of the academy; all the hallways and where the dormitories are located. Got it?"

"Yes. I'll go get started right away." He turns on his heel and races towards the hotel a couple of miles down the street.

"Grant, I want you to get me eyes on the gates of the Gallagher Academy. And I need the quickest way to break in."

He nods and casually starts down the sidewalk in the direction Jonas had gone.

"Grant," he spins to look at me, only several yards down the sidewalk. "Make it quick, but make it good. We can't have her slip through our fingers again."

He nods again and sprints like a cheetah after Jonas.

As both my partners leave my side, I look up at the falling snowflakes. They tumble through the sky, dotting it with little white specks. They're so graceful, peaceful in a way. I wish life was peaceful.

I grin at the odd thought. That'll never happen, so I don't know why I wish for it. But, I guess sometimes, it's good to hope.

That little spark inside of me reminds me of another objective I hadn't completed yet. I cautiously start jogging away from the direction the guys had gone.

I have my own business to take care of.


	3. Mr Green-eyed Wonder

Bex charges to the light switch before the first image appears. The brighter the room, the less vivid the screen's images will be. The room goes pitch-black and she fumbles her way back to my bed. I feel her presence as the bed bends under the additional weight and the comforter shifts.

A burst of color flashes across the screen, blinding us for a split second. The room sinks into darkness again and Liz's furious pecks fills the silence. She grumbles quietly under her breath while we wait in contemplation. Every moment the screen stays dark I feel the knot of worry in my stomach get larger and tighter.

Liz taps at her keyboard, typing in commands, and the first picture finally appears on the computer monitor.

The three of us; Macey, Bex, and I crowd around the pictures impatiently. Our elbows jab and poke into each other's ribs as we shove to get the best view. Liz squeezes her shoulders to make room for us in the cramped space.

The first photo is of my three roommates, who now surround me. The lens must have snapped the picture before I left on the mission.

Liz scrolls through the first few pictures, all of them of the girls and the inside of the van. Nothing note-worthy is shown.

After we brush past the unimportant ones, Liz stops clicking. On the computer monitor is their initial look of the dingy bar. I turn and watch their indifferent faces consider all the specifics. They are in spy mode, completely focused on the task presented.

Liz clicks the mouse again and freezes, her eyes slowly enlarge with each second that passes.

When the necklace snapped the photo, I was facing towards the back booth. The boy with glasses, sitting on the seat, is magnified. The textbook's title is large on the screen.

"What is it, Liz?" I ask her, confused.

"He... He..." Liz stutters.

"Liz!"

"Y'all know I'm smart, right?" We stare at her. Smart was an understatement. All Gallagher Girls are smart, Liz is a brilliant genius.

"Yeah...?" I say, unsure of what she was getting at.

"Well... even _I_ haven't mastered Differential Calculus. Yet," she adds it likes it's an afterthought. "And that guy," she jabs her finger at the messy black-haired head, "that guy is reading through it like it's a children's book."

"Whoa..." Macey, Bex, and I say in unison.

Now, looking between Liz and the guy, I can practically see the chemistry possible between them. Both of them are obviously smart. If they hooked up they would compliment each other so well... Did I just think that?

I shake my head to clear it. Thinking ooey gooey thoughts like that are Macey's daily way of thinking, which is not what I want to become.

Macey arches a perfect eyebrow. "Is that the only reason you're gaping at him?" She smiles a knowing grin.

Liz blushes. "Maybe... maybe not." She shrugs her shoulders carelessly. "He_ is_ cute, though. Isn't he?"

It's weird; she asks like she doesn't know if he's cute or not. But, maybe she doesn't. The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young _Women_ doesn't get a lot of boys. That's why I got a ton of press when my relationship with Josh was uncovered. My roommates and I went to drastic measures that could be considered unhealthy to discover if his interest in me was fake or truth.

Macey laughs a tinkling laugh. "He is if you think so."

"On to the next picture!" Bex says impatiently. She claps her hands together and gestures to the screen for emphasis. Macey, Liz, and I share a smile; boys aren't her thing.

The next picture shows the guy that had caught my attention; the one that had been staring at me. I gaze at his face, trying to commit everything about him to memory. The carelessness of his hair is extremely sexy. It agitates me. I wish I could reach through the screen back to the moment I was there and smooth it down. As I make my way down from the hair to his eyes, I try to look away and focus on something else, anything else. But I can't. Those green eyes keep pulling me in like a fishing reel. They're mesmerizing and I get sucked into a trance.

"Bloody hell!" Bex yells enthusiastically. She wakes me from my daydreaming. "That guy is hot!"

"Agreed," Macey murmurs in consent. Her eyes never leave him. A manicured hand is on her chin like she's contemplating a huge decision.

I look at her in shock and utter amazement. Macey is super picky about guys because -being hot- she can have her choice of who she wants. Sometimes it annoys me that boys practically fawn over her when we are out in public. Yet, they don't even realize I exist.

"What?" She asks. "I have seen tons of cute guys, but that guy is _hot._ I would date him any day." She flashes a seductive smile at the screen.

I feel a spark of an emotion in my chest. I don't what it is or how to describe it. I ignore it and return to looking at the screen.

"What do you think, Cammie?" She asks me directly. "You haven't said much."

"Ummm..." I try to come up with a worthy answer. I pull uncomfortably at the collar of my crisp, white uniform blouse. "I guess?"

"You guess?" Macey repeats dumbly. "What kind of answer is that?"

I bury my head in my pillow. Of course he's hot. I just don't want to say it for some reason.

"Cammie... oh Cammie," she taunts with a wicked grin on her face.

"Mmhbhn..." I mumble unintelligibly into the pillow.

"Hmmm? What was that?"

"Mmmmhnn..."

"Excuse me?"

"Ok!" I'm just about explode. "He's hot! I'll give him that. He's hot."

Macey grins and pulls her plaid pajama shorts lower on her long legs. It only comes to mid-thigh when she's in sitting position. She throws her hair over her shoulder. "Of course he is."

I smile shyly at her and feel another spark of emotion inside of me. But this time it hits harder. I force it back and try to seem casual as I stand up. My back aches from sitting in a weird position and I stretch, hitting Bex while I do so.

"Woops..."

All I have time to do is mutter that one tiny word before Bex punches me back in the gut. And she hits _hard_. A bruise will definitely be prominent by tomorrow morning at the latest. I wonder if I'll get P&E extra credit if I show it to the teacher. It's highly probably and I grin at the prospect.

I tackle her to the ground, pulling Macey with us. We wrestle for a while until we are _all _tired and beaten down.

I straighten my skirt quickly to hide my underwear and sit cross-legged on the closest bed.

Macey, Bex, and I laugh silently, trying to catch our breath. Until Liz clears her throat.

Macey instantly starts up the boy talk again. "So... Liz. What do _you_ think about Mr. Green-eyed Wonder?"

Liz ruins it for all of us. "I agree with you guys, but I think the other one is cuter."

We glare at her and she shrinks back. "Next slide," she whispers quietly, barely making a sound. The click of the mouse is louder than her voice.

The next picture shows when I turned to look at green-eyed guy's friend, the one that was super muscular and made me drool.

Macey whistles softly. "Now that," she says. "Is a cute guy."

"Cute is an understatement," Bex replies defensively. "Hell, _gorgeous_ is an understatement. He's blazing! That guy is a fricking god!"

She's practically shaking and spit is flying out of her mouth. I dramatically wipe it from my arms and legs.

"Whoa, easy there tiger." Macey winks. "I think someone's in _love_..."

I try to calm them before one of them makes a mistake. "These guys are _operatives_."

"Who cares, that just makes them-" Bex starts but I cut her off.

"They aren't just operatives. There's a huge chance they are _enemy_ operatives."

They go silent immediately.

"Way to ruin the fun," Macey complains.

"Let's get back to work," I suggest. They nod their heads in agreement with me, but disappointment is written on their faces. Liz clicks to the next picture.

The photo is blurry and nothing is visible.

"What happened?" Liz asks, clearly alarmed.

"I must have been running and the camera was moving around too fast to take a decent picture," I explain easily.

"Oh," she answers in a small voice.

Bex pipes up. "At least we have some good pictures." She winks at Macey, who smiles in return.

"Whatever..." I grumble.

As we continue going through the slides and picking out the most important ones, I realize what I've felt since Macey mentioned dating green-eyed hottie. I feel kind of... _jealous_. Though, I'd never admit it out loud.

The green-eyed guy had been mine. My secret fantasy. I could've day-dreamed about him all day. But now, my roommates knew about him and I had to share him. My fantasies, if any, will now be tainted with a small chance for rejection.

And if there was a chance, a very small chance, that we would ever see him again, he would never choose me for a girlfriend. He would pick Macey or Bex, who are prettier or more beautiful, or even Liz with her innocence.

Not me, because nothing involving beauty -any type- is ever me.

* * *

"Who is she? Why do you need me to kidnap her?"

I'm drained of energy from my flight back to Blackthorne. I'm annoyed that my boss won't give me a solid answer.

"Mr. Solomon, I _need_ to know. I won't take a girl _my_ age and bring her to a government agency without knowing why!"

I bang my fist on the old, antique desk for emphasis. The stained wood groans from the pressure and I remove it quickly.

"Remember who you are speaking to, young man," Mr. Solomon says while narrowing his eyes at me. "You will always speak to me with respect."

I nod and let a sigh escape through my clenched teeth. Once I think I can handle the task, I sit down in the seat across from him. The cushion crunches under my weight. It's rarely used and hasn't been broken in.

"Sir, please. I would just like to know why the girl is important," I find myself asking calmly.

"I believe that is classified. But I will tell you in time," he replies just as calmly.

"If you can't answer that for me... Can you answer one of my other questions?"

"Depends on the question," Mr. Solomon gives me a stare that bluntly says I should think about why I say next.

"Why did you have me go on this mission? Why _me_? You could have a dozen other agents complete this goal faster and easier than I will."

"I would always choose you over any of them."

"Why?" I ask, confused. I'm obviously a good spy, and one of the best at the school, but nothing compared to other operatives already in the field.

"You have a brain _and_ a heart. And I'm trying to figure out if I can trust you with hers."

I blink. What was that supposed to mean?

Mr. Solomon rests a wary gaze on me. "Have you found her location yet?"

"Of course I have, sir."

"Have you found possible entries and exits from the academy?"

"Jonas and Grant-" I stop and correct myself. "I mean Mr. Anderson and Mr. Newman are working on it at this very moment."

"Good. I would expect nothing less."

He stands and reaches his hand across the empty space above the desk.

"I hope I receive an important package sometime soon," he says coldly, his face set and serious.

"You will, sir."

"Good. Now get back to Roseville."

~:~

My shoes tap against the airport tile and I stuff my hands into the pockets of my slacks.

I exit through the main entrance's revolving doors and climb in a waiting cab.

As I lean back on the shredded leather seat and wait, coming to the conclusion that the car smells like old leather and cigarette smoke, I think over things.

My mind tries to wrap around the fact that Cameron Morgan has always slipped away. Every time we've gotten close to capturing her, she disappears. She would make an amazing pavement-artist. My heart stops. Does Mr. Solomon want to recruit her?

I will never let that happen. Being a spy is hard work. Dangerous work. A girl spy. I shudder at the thought. She would be a pathetic excuse of an operative. I can hardly stand to work with my best friends as partners on a mission and I can't imagine working with a teenage girl. That would be way too much emotional stress and drama. And there's the added fact of teenage hormones.

I hope Mr. Solomon has a better idea because I will not turn her in if that is his plan. But, as I think of this, I think of my duty. Of course I will turn her in, it's my job. It's my objective.

I wonder what Jonas and Grant are doing right now. Did they finish what I told them to do? If not, someone's going to get hurt. We don't have time to mess up again. If we do, it'll be the end of us. Literally.

The taxi pulls to an abrupt stop and I stop myself before I slam into the seat in front of me. The scent of burning rubber stings my nose and I catch the driver's eye.

"Thanks," I say as I climb out and walk up the cold hotel steps.

I see Jonas and Grant sitting on the couches inside the lobby.

But before I go in to join them, I think over Mr. Solomon's words.

He said he would choose me over any other spy because I have a heart.

He'd also said something about trusting me with Cameron's heart.

Spies aren't supposed to feel. It could get us killed. Or worse.

I've never even met this girl before. Now, I'm supposed to kidnap her? Then what? Torture her? Force her into the spy world? My world?

Please. I'd rather be going rogue before I pushed someone else into this life. Mr. Solomon knew that.

So, what did Solomon have up his sleeve?


	4. Just Like That

My eyes hurt when we are finally done looking at every single detail of the pictures. And I mean _every_ detail. I had the pictures of the enemy operatives engraved into my brain for eternity.

I feel my eyes get heavy and they droop. Through half-closed lids, I see the other girls trudge towards their beds like the weight of the world is on their shoulders.

I drag my feet to my messy bed and throw myself down on it, not bothering to pull the covers over me. The mattress bends beneath my weight and bounces back. I settle into the pillows and close my eyes. I don't have time to think about my stressful day, I just let sleep pull me under.

* * *

"Jonas, Grant." I say, demanding their immediate attention. We needed to get this task done. I know I said before that I wouldn't let Cameron come into the spy life, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to complete my assigned mission. "Give me a report. What'd you find?"

Jonas, the more organized of the two, starts rattling off information. He picks up his clipboard and I smirk. He made a stupid list to organize all the information. "I found some information about Cameron Morgan. The CIA database had barely any information on her and I couldn't access any more: Security measures were too tough for me to crack."

Grant gapes at him, and I'll admit that even I was a little amazed. Jonas was amazing with computers. I had never met-or heard- of anyone that could beat him at it.

Oblivious to the looks we were giving him, Jonas continues. "But I did find out that the school will not be making any scheduled trips away from the campus, but that is subject to change. And I got the blueprint of the academy on my laptop. I've already memorized it so I can guide you through the school after you enter via commas but you may want to look at it yourself."

Grant and I grab the laptop off the nearby coffee table and run our eyes over it multiple times. Grant points out the gates of the school to me and where he positioned multiple cameras. He also shows me the easiest route to the girls' rooms. The school was big and I hoped I could find my way through it at night.

"Got it," we both say at the same time.

"How is that possible!?" Jonas asks, confused. "For the brain to commit an entire blueprint should take multiple hours, not a few seconds! I'll need to recheck my data, recalculate the-"

"Jonas," I stop him before he goes off on his rant. He hates to reconsider his earlier work. "Remember," I say slowly, pointing to Grant and myself, "we're trained spies."

"Oh. Ok? I still have to change my theory on memorization, though."

I smile and shake my head. Jonas will always be Jonas.

I turn my head to look out the large bay windows on one side of the lobby. Stars shine brightly against the backdrop of darkness. The moon hangs high in the sky already. Where did time go?

"Time to go boys."

* * *

My eyes shoot open. I listen, but all is quiet. Grit is crusted around my eyes and they burn in the darkness.

The soft, even breathing of my roommates and the growling of my stomach are the only things I hear.

I slowly sit up, careful of my movements, and try to slow my racing heart. Climbing out of bed, I pad barefoot across the rough carpet and cautiously open the door. Before I leave, I glance in the mirror. I am wearing my favorite blue cami and black short shorts as pajamas and my hair is a tangled mess. I would fix it, but that would take too long and no one is going to see me.

I walk softly through the halls and they look different in the dark. The moonlight shines through the large windows and reflects off the tiled floor, turning the black-silver. A breeze blows in through one of the windows overlooking the side-yard.

* * *

_"Watch out for the laser beam to your right."_

I avoid it as I make my way over the snowy lawn of Gallagher Academy.

The ivy-covered wall towers over me and I tilt my head up to look at it. It's big, but I've climbed bigger. I reach a few feet above my head and grip the tightly packed stone. My foot easily finds a hold and I quickly make it up the wall.

I see a window to my right. It's obviously locked.

"Hacker," I say using Jonas's codename, "can you see if there are any trick wires attached to the window to my right?" I hear furious typing in my ear.

_"You're clear."_

I pull out some of my equipment and set to work on opening the window. It takes some elbow grease but I finally get it open.

I use my strong arms to swing myself inside. My shoes make no sound as I land gracefully on the balls of my feet. The mansion is dark and the moonlight reflects off the well-polished tile.

I press my back to the wall and sneak towards the dorms.

"Which way do I need to go?"

I hear some mumbling in my ear but I don't get a clear answer.

"Greek God! I swear if you are distracting Hacker I am going to _kill you."_

_"Sorry boss! I won't anymore... but if you have to go into any sleeping girls rooms, make sure you turn on the camera, okay?"_

I groan. Grant is always a pervert, no matter where he is. And sneaking into an all-girls' school was overwhelming for him.

"Shut up, Greek God!" I whisper too loudly. Grant better shape up, but before I can tell him to do so, the feed goes out. I'm alone, in a school I'm not supposed to be in.

I give up trying to see in the shadows and step out into the light coming from the window. A gasp rings through the room. I freeze; the worst thing to do. All is quiet though, so I write it off as a sound that came through the window on the breeze.

I continue down the hallway, but I don't get far.

* * *

A muted thud comes from behind me. I spin and try to come up with some excuse for why I am out of bed in the middle of the night. Should I run and get back to my dorm? Or should I stay and home to win the teacher's favor?

I see the shadows move and instinct tells me it isn't a teacher or classmate. Raising my hands in defense, I sneak back towards the wall and do what I do best, disappear.

Eyes peer through the darkness and I see a pale face attached to it. The figure is still invisible, clothed in black, and I see why when they step into the light.

My eyes run over his body, memorizing every detail so I can analyze it later. As I do so, a memory tugs at the back of my mind, trying to break free. I can tell it's important, but for the life of me, I can't remember.

Frustrated, I focus back in on him. He has broad shoulders and muscular arms. He is tall, but not skinny, and has an athletic look.

I tilt my head to search his face for recognition. He hasn't seen me yet, but I'm afraid he'll hear me when I cover a gasp.

He turns his head slightly my way at the sound, he back now stiff. He knows he's not alone. Apparently satisfied when he doesn't hear anything else, he continues in the direction he had before.

I hear his breath, and the sharp hiss of words. He's wearing a comms unit. I can't believe it. He's the guy from the bar. He's been watching me and following me. He broke into Gallagher Academy, the one place I thought I was safe.

Anger turns my vision red and this time when I look over him, I look for his weaknesses.

As he starts across the moonlit floor, I see he has a slight limp on his right leg. When he climbed in the window-which I figured he did-he must have gotten hurt.

His eyes repeatedly blink and I realize his biggest disadvantage: He doesn't know anything about where he is going. He's walking around in an unfamiliar building, in the dark, and trying to be sneaky. I smile wickedly. I have the home court advantage. I know the mansion like the back of my hand and maybe more than anyone besides Gillian Gallagher.

Using the advantage of bare feet, I pad cautiously across the Grand Hall and my sweaty feet stick to the cool tile. As I step behind him, I sweep my bare leg underneath him, trying to knock him down. He anticipates the move and jumps gracefully over my extended leg. When he lands, he spins to face his attacker: Me.

I see his arm swing, trying to hit me. But as soon as he completes the rotation, my foot connects with his stomach.

He double over and gasps, never looking up to see who I am. The look on his face is full of confusion, surprise, and a hint of anger. His hands cover his abdomen and I aim another well-placed kick there, bruising both hands and knocking him over.

But he can't see me. That would blow my cover, what little cover I have left. He doesn't know who I am yet, and I want to keep it that way.

I race over to him. Using my bare-foot, I kick him in the stomach while he's down. It doesn't cause as much damage as I had hoped, but it does the job and he flips over to cover the unprotected area, leaving his back open. I quickly straddle his back before he can move. I lean down and shove his face into the floor.

"Do you know how much I want to kill you right now?" I ask angrily through gritted teeth. "Do you have _any _idea?!"

I move my hand to his cheek and smash his head between my fingers and the ground even more. It had to hurt. When he moved, if he ever moved from that spot beneath me, there would be a line etched into the side of his chiseled features from the grout between the tiles.

"No idea," he grunts. I know I am not the heaviest girl or as strong as Bex, but he flips me off of him like I weigh nothing. I land hard on my tailbone and roll backwards, landing on the balls of my feet.

As he stands, I run behind him. But he's faster and sees me move. He throws a curved punch aimed for my jaw that would have easily knocked out half of my teeth, or worse, knocked me out.

I duck like I am trained to and throw my own punch. He turns his head and my fist brushes his jaw line. Stubble rakes down my knuckles and as soon as I complete the swing I drag my fist back to protect my face.

Both of us swing, duck, and counter the other's moves for a few minutes, always ready, never letting down our guard. Soon enough I am panting and sweat trickles down my neck and seeps into my cami.

I see the boy getting tired too and anger is the only thing that keeps me fueled.

Finally, I see an opening and use the Baxter maneuver, which was obviously invented by my kick ass friend, Bex.

The boy slams into the wall of windows. The curtain next the open window ripples in the wind and shivers race across my bare skin. The fabric flutter towards the guy and he reaches for it.

But I dive towards him. His head slams into the marble behind him. Before I can pin his arms with my legs he reaches out for my throat.

His calloused thumbs brush against my neck and I shudder. Surprisingly... it had felt _good_. Which is weird, because he was trying to _strangle me_!

He never gets a chance to close his hands around my throat. I push him down the hall till we are in front of the window. We continue throwing punches. Who knew hitting marble hurt so much!

I look to the window for inspiration, I can't keep fighting for much open pane angles out and it's the perfect chance.

Using momentum from a punch I previously swung, I bring both hands close together in a butterfly, to have the most contact, and shove. My fury gives me more strength. It isn't a spy maneuver so I know the enemy operative doesn't expect.

The top of his body leans dangerously far out the window. His arms pin wheel wildly and I smile. Deep inside me, I know he's not going to make it back inside. Not while I'm standing there. I'll make sure of it.

As he realizes that fact himself, a mixture of emotions break across his face. Surprise, pain, and fear. Huh. Fear. I never thought someone would be afraid of me. Or maybe he's just afraid of dying on impact from falling out of a window.

And lastly, as his eyes meet mine and he really looks at me for the first time, recognition registers.

"You?" He breathes before gravity pulls him down. His eyes close as he spreads his arms wide. The look on his face is one I will never forget for the rest of my life. It looks like he's accepting his fate. His body tumbles gracefully through the air.

I stumble away from the open window, tripping over my feet, and stand there numbly. He went, just like that. He fought his hardest and he knew he was going to die. He didn't try in the end. Was dying easier than going back to whoever sent him?

As my mind runs over this thought, I feel a quick sadness for him. His life was worse than mine. It was crazier and mine was sure crazy.

My pity disappears instantly when I come back to reality. He came to my home. He broke in. He tried to hurt me and succeeded. He damaged my image of safety of Gallagher Academy. These walls could no longer protect me.

I listen closely to the sounds blowing through the window with the breeze. No thump, no thud, no crash. I sprint to the window and lean out.

The crisp wind peels my dirty-blonde hair off my sticky forehead. It floats weightlessly and blows around my face. I stare down. I don't see him. He's gone.

_Just like that._

* * *

When I had broken into the Gallagher Academy, I hadn't expected trouble. I thought it would be an easy enough mission: Break in, get Cameron Morgan, and walk out.

But luck wasn't on my side today.

I'm still in shock that she beat me. A _girl _beat me. I'm kind of... in awe too. And it was Cameron, I know it was.

She had looked amazing with the moon light on her face. Her hair had been messy, but it was cute. And her legs, they weren't as long as some girls' I know but they were tanned and muscular. Her arms were strong and...

Stop! Why am I thinking these thoughts?!

She obviously hated me. When she had looked at me with those amazing brown eyes, before pushing me out of the window, I could see it in her eyes. And she had said she had wanted to kill me. But I couldn't blame her.

I had broken into her school, tried to harm her many times, and I had followed her. Not exactly a good way to get a girl to like you.

I sigh and sit on the edge of the hotel bed. I had failed my mission another time. But we would strike again tomorrow, and we will succeed this time.


	5. Gone with the Snow

My heart pounds. I can't breathe. Grasping my throat, I fall to my knees. I could've killed him. That would have made me an assassin. I know I'm a spy and all, but I've _never_ killed _anyone_.

All I can think about is their grieving families, and that I could be the cause of their suffering. I wince. I wasn't thinking when I pushed him out the window. But I know in my heart he isn't dead.

I try to calm my accelerated heart rate and get to my feet. I wobble for a few seconds before regaining my balance. My head feels foggy and I feel empty inside.

But my brain takes over for my heart and makes me move. My bare feet thud noisily against the cool tile as I race towards my mother's room. Someone needs to know what happened.

My mom's the headmistress of Gallagher Academy. She shows me no favoritism though. I have to work as hard, even harder than the other girls.

But I love my mom. She holds me together. A few years ago, my dad went MIA and I cried on her shoulder. She comforted me, and in turn, I comforted her. She's beautiful and strong, but everyone has a weakness. Family is hers. I don't know what mine is yet.

I tell her everything, but this was one thing that needed to be kept a secret.

I skid to a stop. Why was I running to her room, then? Shouldn't I be going somewhere else?

My mind goes over all the teachers, and who I trust enough to tell them this information. Only one man comes to mind.

~:~

"Mr. Solomon? Can I talk to you?" I whisper in the darkness.

He yawns and replies groggily, "Sure. Come on in."

A lot of students, especially girls, would think it's weird that I came to a male teacher's room in the middle of the night. But I'm not normal and I trust Mr. Solomon with my life. He's saved it many times and I owe him big time. I know I can trust him with this.

"Someone broke into the mansion tonight," I say softly. Mr. Solomon still hears every word, he's trained to.

He doesn't even blink. "I know."

My eyebrows furrow. "How?"

"I'm a spy for a reason." He smirks knowingly. "That was quite the fight the two of you had."

I smile sadly. "Was I good?"

"That was one of the best fights I've ever watched," he grins proudly, staring at the wall. I can't help but feel confused. Is he even talking about me?

Something clicks in my mind. As much as I want to think I know a lot about Mr. Solomon, I know I can't. He has too many secrets that he will never tell to anyone in his life, no matter how important they are.

"Do you know who he was? He was good, too good for a Roseville high school student trying to pull a prank. They wouldn't have been smart enough to get past all the security measures in the first place."

Mr. Solomon nods. "I know."

"But do you know who he is?"

"That is classified information."

"You can't tell me?" I stare at him with pleading eyes. "He came after me. I need to know, sir, so I can prepare myself. What if he comes back? When he tries again, we can be ready and prepared. That way, fewer people will be harmed."

Mr. Solomon looks at me with his knowing eyes. He tilts his head to the side, studying me carefully.

He has the ghost of a smile on his lips when he says, "Did you ever think about going to them?"

~:~

Have I ever mentioned that I love going into the little town of Roseville? I usually do, but today doesn't apply. Someone was out there, and they wanted to hurt me. But I was going to find them before they could.

I flick my gaze to my left and right, scanning all the faces down the street. Anyone could be the agent that had attacked me. I couldn't let my guard down again. When I hear footsteps behind me, I get flashbacks of last night and wheel around, my fists raised. But it's only my roommates.

"Cam? Are you okay?" Macey asks. "You seem... jumpy."

"Do you know something we don't?" Bex asks. She lifts a perfect eyebrow and leans closer. Her eyes bore into mine. "I think you do."

"What are you talking about?" I try to keep my voice even. It obeys me, but I think the emotions in my eyes -namely guilt- is the one that betrays me to them.

"You know something. Spill it," she states, like it's a known fact.

I face my shoes and rub them through the gravel.

We had taken a trip outside the school on a CoveOps assignment. Mr. Solomon had been unclear about the point of the mission, but all the other girls thought it was just a practice mission to learn how to use disguises.

I knew differently though, when he told us we were visiting town. I knew he had given me the opportune time to find a certain boy.

But before letting us enter the disguise room -which he had given us full raid of- Mr. Solomon handed us each a manila folder containing our assigned cover.

We didn't get to choose our cover on this mission, and that was fine with me. It's easier to know who you're supposed to be and then fitting the mold, rather than making it up yourself and ruining the mission. But I could still become any person in the world I wanted to in the blink of an eye. That's why I'm the Chameleon. If I don't want you to see me, you won't.

When I had opened the folder a page covered in small, black words met me. I instantly began to memorize every detail of my cover, knowing he wouldn't let us have it for very long.

Operative Cameron Ann Morgan

**Name: **Kailyn Shores

**Age: **16

**Appearance: **Red hair, blue eyes, 5'4"

**Personality: **Flirty, outgoing, loves music**  
Family: **Mother: Melissa Shores- Location: Hudson, Ohio- Age: 42 years old,

Sister: Shelby Shores- Location: Hudson, Ohio- Age: 11 years old

**Current Location: **Roseville Hotel, on school trip to Washington D.C.

**Mission Subject: **Enemy operative

**Mission Objective: **Find whereabouts/residence and identity of enemy operative without being compromised

This disguise would be a little harder for me. I don't like attention, but the girl I was about to become loves it. But during assignments you have to become what enemy agents won't expect. You have to become the opposite of what you truly are. Don't get me wrong, I can do it, but I'll have to work a tad bit harder to perfect it.

I glance at my roommates' covers. They had the same mission I did.

They hadn't been there last night and I hadn't told them yet so this would raise a few questions. Our classmates don't share our mission, but they share the same cover we have; students on a school trip to Washington D.C. from our private academy in Ohio. But because our classmates aren't in on the plan, we won't have any backup if something went wrong.

Operative Rebecca Baxter

**Name: **Kyle Emberly

**Age: **16

**Appearance: **Bleached-blonde hair, brown eyes, cappuccino skin, athletic, 5'6"

**Personality: **Shy, mysterious, bubbly with friends

**Family: **Mother: Lori Emberly- Location: London, England- Age: 41 years old

Father: Kevin Emberly- Location: London, England- Age 43 years old

**Current Location: **Roseville Hotel, on school trip to Washington D.C.

**Mission Subject: **Enemy Operative

**Mission Objective: **Find whereabouts/residence and identity of enemy operative without being compromised

Operative Macey McHenry

**Name: **Lauren Walter

**Age: **16

**Appearance: **Light brown hair, blue eyes, 5'7"

**Personality: **Talkative, stylish, rich, flirty

**Family: **Mother: Christine Walter- Location: Florida Keys- Age: 36 years old

Father: Mark Walter- Location: Florida Keys- Age: 37 years old

**Current Location: **Roseville Hotel, on school trip to Washington D.C.

**Mission Subject: **Enemy Operative

**Mission Objective: **Find whereabouts/residence and identity of enemy operative without being compromised

Operative Liz Sutton

**Name: **Jenny Cruise

**Age: **16

**Appearance: **Dark brown hair, green eyes, 4'10"

**Personality: **Quiet, intelligent, computer geek

**Family:** Mother: Christina Cruise- Location: Hudson, Ohio- Age: 38 years old

Father: Robert Cruise- Location: Hudson Ohio- Age: 38 years old

**Current Location: **Roseville Hotel, on school trip to Washington D.C.

**Mission Subject: **Enemy Operative

**Mission Objective: **Find whereabouts/residence and identity of enemy operative without being compromised

"Cammie? Would you like to tell us why finding an _enemy operative_ was on our cover sheets? Hmm?" Macey asks impatiently. She has her hands on her hips and is tapping her foot impatiently.

I gaze at the three girls in front of me and sigh. They weren't going to give up.

I drag them over to the side of the icy sidewalk next to a little coffee shop and tell them everything.

They deserve to know everything about last night with the intruder and Mr. Solomon, and I could use their help.

"Well," Bex starts eagerly, "we better get to work then." She grins wickedly. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to kick some bad guy ass!"

I'm still not sure if she meant that literally or figuratively. Probably both.

~:~

"Are you fricking kidding me? Macey, I can't wear that! It's _winter_!"

"Sure you can! I've done it loads of times."

"That's because _you're_ you, but I'm me. I don't even know if I would even wear that little piece of clothing in summer," I argue pointing to the shirt that's laid out on the bathroom counter.

Macey, being Macey, expected me to wear a low-cut, light blue tank top with beads around the collar and a pair of super short shorts.

"Fine," she grumbles. "You can wear some ripped skinny jeans with it instead of the shorts. But you _are _going to wear the tank top. It works perfectly with your red wig and blue eyes!"

"Okay... I will," I reply unhappily.

"Oh! And wear these converse, okay? It'd look really cute with that shirt and jeans!" She piles everything into my arms, spins me around, and shoves me towards the hotel bathroom.

We are changing into our disguises in a hotel room's bathroom instead of at the school, much to Macey's dismay. We broke in easily and -for obvious reasons, won't be staying long. But this way, our covers wouldn't be seen walking off of the Gallagher campus.

"Okay... will do," I say before I close the door behind me. Something thuds against the door and lands on the outside floor. I can almost see Macey flinging it after me.

She shouts through the door, "Don't forget that push-up bra!"

I groan. Is she trying to ruin my life or help me?

After pulling on the clothes, I step out and am instantly attacked by Macey with a mascara brush.

She drags me over to the bed and makes me sit on it.

"Can we go now?" complains Bex. "We've been here forever! The other girls already left!"

"Hold your horses!" Macey shoots back. "Just got one last touch..."

* * *

After a long restless night's sleep, I finally come down into the hotel lobby the next morning to notice a big change. There were at least twenty girls there.

_Cute girls_.

As soon as the elevator door opened, I could feel the weight of their stares on me. I still feel it as Jonas and Grant follow me through the bodies crowded in the available space and towards the couches where we had been last night.

I flash a smile towards a group of girls clustered around some tables by the small café. It has the desired effect. They burst into giggles and turn towards each other.

I smirk. I gotta admit, I'm hot.

One of the girls that had ogled runs up to me. Her flaming red hair shimmers with each step she takes. She stops in front of me and my eyes run up and down her body.

The tank top she's wearing barely contains her well-developed chest and faded jeans with fraying holes make her legs seem longer. When she sees me checking her out, she smiles seductively. Her bright blue eyes shine brightly and they pull me in, her red hair framing her delicate face.

"Hey there."

"Hi," I smile.

"Like what you see?" She says with a brilliant white smile.

"You bet I do," I smirk at her and give a small wink.

She laughs, and it sounds like the tinkling of bells. I hear an unplanned pause before she speaks again. "Do you know where the vending machines are?" She smiles again, but it looks forced and doesn't reach her eyes like the other one did.

"Yeah, they're right over there," I say while pointing in the direction of a hallway off the main area.

I look at her when she doesn't move. A cute blush creeps up her neck. "Um," she says, "can I borrow a quarter? I'm short for a soda."

I smirk at her, making her blush deepen as I pull a quarter from my pocket. Our fingers brush as I hand it to her.

"Thanks," she says with a smile, backing up. "I'll see you around, 'kay?"

"That would be great." As she walks off, she sways her hips and I can't help but watch her retreating backside.

Other girls give her the evil eye, but she ignores it as she saunters off in the direction I told her.

When she comes back, she's sipping a Diet Coke and is carrying three others balanced on one hand.

I raise my eyebrows, it's impressive.

She heads over to some girls by a small Christmas tree in the corner. I don't know why, but I can't stop my eyes from following her. She's addictive and I definitely want to talk to her again.

I trudge over to my waiting partners, their eyes also on me. Together, we go sit down on the leather couches. The cushion swallows me and I relax back into it.

"Dude! This is _awesome!"_ Grant practically squeals.

"Calm down, man."

"I will. But not until I talk to that babe over there." He jerks his head towards the group of girls I had watched before.

"Go get it over with," I smile. "Hurry up!"

Jonas and I watch him leave. Grant struts over to where the girl is talking to her friends. She's cute, but I like the girl next to her -the one from before- better.

The girl Grant has his sights on has bleached blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and tanned skin. I watch as she tilts the Coke into her mouth and her muscles flex. Holy shit, that girl is strong. From the looks of it she could take Jonas down in a fight, if not Grant.

Even from where I'm sitting, I see Grant's eyes get wide. He better not hurt her feelings, because from the looks of it, she'll hurt him right back.

When he walks up to the girl, her forehead creases. She nods her head at something he says and I see her pull out a slip of paper, scribbling something on it. Grant races back to where I am sitting. He has a flush to his cheeks and a slightly bewildered look in his eyes.

"She gave me her number!"

"That's great. Now sit down!" I say with a smirk. Grant gets way too excited over girls.

He plops down into a chair, but his knee keeps bouncing up and down. I tap it so he knows, and he immediately stops. His eyes keep flicking glances in her direction though.

I take this moment to tease him. "I think someone's in _love..."_

He slaps me hard across the arm. "Shut up!"

Smirking, I pull out the data we used last night. We'll have to use it again to plan another mission.

All of a sudden, the four girls in the group split and make a jog towards the door. My eyes follow the girl and my heart sinks. I might not see her again.

I watch as she steps out into the cold, wearing nothing but a tank top and jeans. Her red hair whips around her head in the breeze. I can't help but think she's beautiful.

Her head turns slightly and her eyes catch mine.

And then she's gone.

* * *

"I can't believe I did that... I can't believe I did that," I mumble over and over.

"Ca- I mean Kailyn, what went wrong?" Liz says as I rejoin the group. She's probably the worst spy out of all of us at being covert.

I roll my eyes as I hand them each the coke. I had gone over to talk to him to find out some key information. We now knew that he was staying at the Roseville Hotel and we had his thumbprint, but we didn't have anything else to go off of.

"When I got past the 'Hey' part, I froze. I didn't know what to say. That's _not_ supposed to happen!" I shout, frustrated.

Macey nods understandingly. "That'll happen with guys. You'll blank."

Bex groans. "But you did get his thumbprint, right?"

"Of course I did," I say, acting offended and held up the 'borrowed' quarter, careful to only touch the edges.

I watch as Liz's face lights up like it's Christmas day. "Then give it here and we'll go find out who he is!" She squeals.

We all race towards the door. As I push out of the warm hotel lobby and into the freshly fallen snow, my eyes fall on a certain boy.

And his eyes are still on me. At least until I disappear.


	6. New Discoveries

I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally answers the phone on the third ring.

"I take it you're not calling me with good news?" he demands coldly.

I hadn't planned on calling him in the first place, but it was kind of necessary considering recent events.

"No. I-"

"Look," I can hear him growl through the phone, "skip the fluff in the middle. Just get to the point. I don't have all day."

I sigh. I hadn't even begun and he already has his defenses up.

"I need your help."

I hear an evil laugh in the background.

"You, the one man show, needs my help?" I hear more chuckling and I groan. My pride is hurt already for admitting I need him. Did he really have to make it worse?

My fists clench on their own terms and I seethe. I don't understand why my neediness is so funny.

"Whoa. Ok, I'm done," he says after a few minutes. But I still hear the smirk in his voice. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to come to Roseville and help me on a mission," I reply shortly.

"And why would I do that?" He retorts, all humor gone, his voice void of all emotion.

"'Cause we're friends?" I try. There are hardly any reasons for him to help me and he knows it.

He doesn't owe me any favors or help. I hold my breath and pray he doesn't hang up before I have time to influence his choice. If he hangs up, he won't answer the phone the next time I call him. He'll know it's me and then I'll have to resort to calling someone else... that I like even less.

"Yeah right! Says the person that _left me here_! I can't believe after all this time of ignoring my calls, you decide to drop a call -on your own time- and ask for your 'dear pal's help. Get real. All you need me to do is go out there and do something that not even Grant wants to do. I don't want to find that I'm the bait in an enemy base. Last time was bad enough; I'm never doing it again for you."

His voice goes up an octave as he rambles on. I wince, guilt squeezing my chest.

That mission in Europe with the enemy base had been a bad one, but we had successfully completed the mission at least.

Our objective had been to find a secret stash of nuclear explosives. We had needed him to get us into the base. The mission ended well, but I can't say the same for my roommates' eyebrows. I shudder at the thought.

During the mission, Jonas had accidentally walked over some trip wire and got all our eyebrows fried off for a few months. We were the laughing-stock of the school till they grew back.

And I'll admit we did leave him behind at Blackthorne when we flew to Roseville. But at the time, we thought he would just slow us down. He'd just gotten out of the infirmary after a rough couple months. Nick had been in a nasty fight involving a sandwich, a chair, and a kitchen knife. It wasn't pretty, but he still got what he wanted in the end.

I wince, guilt squeezing my chest even tighter. My friends had been there for me when my world tumbled down the first time. But we don't talk about it. They were the only people who had seen my cool appearance slip away into nothing.

Nick had been there for me through all the trouble and I had just left him there, while I went on a mission. I know what it feels like to be left behind, and yet, I had done it to one of my closest friends.

But now, even with my friend, the only back up that I trust enough to help with this mission on the line, I still have to keep up my cool façade.

"It won't be like that again. I promise."

There's silence as he contemplates his decision.

"I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what else to tell you... I _need_ you. Please?" My voice starts loudly, but turns to a whisper by the time I'm done talking. But the person on the other end must be sick of my pleading, because no one answers for a moment.

"Fine," he growls. "I'll be there. But if I find out that this was a scam... you better watch yourself." I hear the threat in his statement and shudder.

I'm glad I don't have what he expects planned. I don't want to be in his line of fire.

And with that, the line goes dead and the faint buzzing sound of static rings in my ear.

* * *

Before the cab has fully stopped, Bex reaches across me from the middle seat and grips the handle.

As soon as we roll in front of the mansion's steps, she pushes with all her arm strength. The door flies open with so much force that it jiggles back and forth in the wind before locking in place.

The cold winter air blows in through the open door and I shiver in my tank top. I reluctantly step out of the cozy -but still dirty- cab.

When my feet meet the ice they slide slightly beneath me. Carefully, I regain my balance and stable myself using the roof of the cab. Even though we're spies, ice is still _very _dangerous.

Liz doesn't have as much luck as me. Soon after her foot touches the slick ice, it pulls her down and her feet splay out in front of her.

As she stands, she wipes wet slush off of her butt and gives me a face. She scowls as she tenderly touches the sore spot. It'll hurt for a while, especially since she sits in a lab chair a lot.

"Ow..." she moans.

I give her a sympathetic look before I race as carefully as I can towards the ice-coated steps of the Gallagher mansion.

Liz groans when she sees them and slows down to a brisk walk to prevent another dangerous wipeout.

Using my spy instincts, I know without looking behind me that the girls are close on my heels. My breath is steam in the low temperature and we all puff out fog when we finally reach the massive oak doors, panting.

Grinning, Macey throws open the doors. A blast of warm air reaches us and the snow on our shoes begins to melt. We scrape off the slush the best we can on the thick rug.

Our shoe soles squeak loudly, echoing in the large entry hall, as we dart across the tile and up the stairs.

No one stops and reprimands us for being here. We're back early, all the teacher and students still in town. But we're spies, we won't get caught. I also have a feeling Mr. Solomon expected us to leave sooner than the others.

As we enter our room, like after our earlier mission, we all crowd around Liz. But, she pushes us away as we surround her.

"This may take a while. I'll need to check all the databases and crime reports. You should get comfortable. And I still have to go change out of these wet pants." She gestures to the soggy pants clinging to her small frame.

"Ok," Bex says and begins to change out of her own wet clothes, the rest of us following her example. Liz turns, grabbing a pair of dry jeans from the dresser, and stalks into the bathroom.

Macey instantly turns to me and gives me a devious smile.

"_So,_" she prompts, looking up from me under her eyelashes. "What was tall, dark, and mysterious _really_ like when you talked to him?"

I feel Macey and Bex imperceptibly lean forward, waiting for my response. Liz reappears from the bathroom, now in a new pair of pants, and takes her spot in front of the laptop.

I pause for a few minutes, unsure how to answer. Macey always asks the questions that make me uncomfortable. Plus, I don't even know how to describe him. Just being next to him was a rush, and those green eyes...

I wait a little longer for dramatic effect, and then I respond. "He was... _interesting._" I say, a little timidly.

"He was really... cocky. It was kind of annoying. I wish we had had a longer conversation so I could get a good reading on him. He didn't know it was me though, luckily."

"What about that silky voice and those green eyes you were gushing about earlier?" Macey asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

I felt heat creep up my neck. "I was not _gushing_."

"Will you please _shut up?" _Liz hisses, drawing her eyes from the computer to glare at us.

"What's _your_ problem?" Bex asks bluntly, after we get over the shock of hearing her actually _hiss_ at us.

"_My_ problem? Are you kidding me? You think _I_ have a problem? Not the people who're gushing about guys while we're in a _crisis?_"

I sighed, frustrated. "I was _not_ gushing," I muttered.

Bex blinks at Liz, confused. Crisis?

"Cammie could have gotten _killed_! And all you guys are doing is asking her if she thought the enemy operative was _hot_? Are you kidding me?" Liz hisses at us again, never one to swear.

She looks pointedly at each one of us and increases the intensity of her glare. Her eyes burn with rage and seem to burn holes into Macey and Bex.

We sit there, silently. Liz usually has a calm demeanor, but she also tends to overreact.

"Liz?" I say softly, reaching out to her. "Are you all right?"

She sighs and her body slumps under my touch. I rest my cool hand on her small shoulder as it shakes slightly. "No I'm not, Cammie. I care too much about you to be okay with putting you in harm's way. I think... I think next time we should be more concerned about you." She looks at each of us again, her gaze resting on me longer than the other two. But this time she does so calmly.

Bex and Macey nod in agreement.

"Agreed," says Bex protectively. "Next time, we'll be more concerned about your safety. I promise."

"I promise, too," swears Macey.

I roll my eyes at them. "Guys, I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

Bex smiles a grim smile. "We'll _always_ be there to back you up. 'Cause I know all of us like kicking bad guy ass. Am I right?" She grins devilishly.

We all laugh and I can feel the tension start to fade. But my throat is tight from their concern. My chest hurts, in a good way, and I'm too choked up to speak. Macey notices and smiles as she pulls all the girls into a tight hug.

I stand there, embraced by my best friends in the whole world, and feel safe. I haven't felt safe since we found out about the enemy operatives, but in my friends arms I forget about the rest of the world and just enjoy the comfort of us holding each other. I don't think anyone wants to break away.

I breathe in the smell of Liz's lotion, Macey's expensive perfume, and sweat and Chap Stick from Bex, sighing.

"I love you guys," I whisper through the lump in my throat, adding to the feeling in the room.

"We love you too, Cammie."

They whisper it back to me softly one by one and it makes me smile.

"Now," says Bex, pulling away from our embarrassingly mushy show of affection, "let's get started."

And even though my eyes are slightly foggy when I look up at Bex, I swear I see that devilish grin plastered on her face again. Oh boy.

* * *

Don't get me wrong, I love working. But after no sleep for 32 hours and 17 minutes, a person can get super annoyed and tired of work.

It's like the guys and I have PMS or something.

We are all irritable and cranky, and practically fighting over the littlest of things. All of us have come to near blows, some of them closer than others.

"_Grant!"_ I hear Jonas yell from an adjoining room. "_Where_ did you put my laptop?"

"I didn't take your damn laptop!"

"Then who the hell did? It's not on my bed where I left it!"

"How the hell should I know? Figure it out yourself!"

Jonas storms out of the room and sees me lounging on the couch. I kick my feet up onto the glass coffee table and pretend to relax, when really I am in burning inside.

I'm tired, angry, cranky, annoyed, and underneath it all, I'm burning up with the need to see a certain girl again.

I watch dumbly as Jonas's face turns red with anger.

"Damn you! You could have told me _before_ that it was on the coffee table!"

I glance down at my feet. Resting next to my sneakers is Jonas's laptop. Woops.

I smirk. "Not my fault you put it there."

Steam is practically pouring out of Jonas's ears. His breath his coming out unevenly and his eyes are smoldering. He points a shaky finger at me.

"Shut the hell up," he hisses. He's almost at his breaking point, I can see it.

Before I have time to reply with a smart comment, we all hear the hotel room's door softly open and slam back into the frame. Footsteps pad around in the kitchen.

Grant cautiously walks out of the room where he and Jonas had recently been bickering. Our previous argument is forgotten as we all prepare for who's entered the room next to us. Grant, being the toughest, creeps into the kitchen, where the only entry door is located.

Jonas and I wait in tense silent for the clatter of dishes that means an attack. We stay on guard and are ready to spring at whoever walks through the door next.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hear Grant say loudly, his voice angry.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" The mysterious voice responds. In an instant I place it. I probably should have told the guys that we would be having a visitor.

I nearly forgot myself, and that's really bad for a spy.

"Hell, no," Grant says before he walks back into our living room. His hands are balled into fists and his face is hard. He steps over my legs resting on the coffee table and disappears into his bedroom.

The door slams angrily behind him.

A moment later, Nick appears in the kitchen doorway. He smiles, but it looks forced. He doesn't want to be here as much as they don't want him to be here. His gold hair is tousled from the flight and his chocolate eyes are mischievous.

When Jonas sees him, he growls like an animal. Quickly bending to scoop up his laptop, he stalks angrily into a separate bedroom, muttering something unintelligible. He whips the door closed behind him, making a vase full of flowers next to me teeter.

Nick and I both turn to watch him leave. As soon as Jonas's door is closed, Nick's face falls. But a sad smile is on his face.

"Miss me?"

* * *

3 hours, 28 minutes -and 3 tacos, 4 lattes, and 3 suckers each later- Liz still hasn't found a match for Mr. Green-eyed-wonder's fingerprints in any database.

Liz has been sitting in her chair for 3 of those hours and Macey, Bex, and I are lying on our backs on the floor.

I groan and grab my stomach. We ate too much junk food.

My stomach gives protest as I suck on my latest Tootsie pop. I'm sure my lips, like my roommates, are colored from the many suckers we have eaten. And I'm sure I have unattractive bags under my eyes. And my hair probably looks like a rat's nest or like I got electrocuted. But I'm too tired and crappy feeling to get up and check.

But somehow, I find a small bit of strength in me to get moving, but not towards the nearest mirror.

Using my hands to push me up, I trudge over to where Liz is scrutinizing the computer. Her eyebrows are pulled together and she looks like she's trying to pull the answer out of the CIA database by glaring at it.

I smile and yawn, one hand covering my mouth as it gapes open, and the first part of my words come out unintelligible, "... tired, Liz? You're looking at the computer like it owes you money."

She smiles weakly before focusing back in on the computer. Her eyes are glassy and I know we all need to sleep. I reach out to grasp her arm, my fingers wrapping around her skinny bicep.

She angrily shakes me off.

"Liz, we need to go to bed."

"_No_," she whispers, angrily. "I will _not_ go to bed until I have figured out who this damn operative is!"

Exhaustion has worn on her a lot because Liz Sutton just _swore. Actual profanity! _

I yawn again and plop down on my bed, my limbs splaying around me. My messy hair cushions my head and I weakly pull the quilt and sheets up to cover me.

I hear a gasp escape Liz's mouth.

"What is it?" I mumble, half asleep.

"I- I found it," she breathes. "_I found it!"_

Tired as I am, I still leap from the mattress and scramble to the screen. But I may have stepped on a few unlucky girls in my rush.

"Wha?" moans Macey, rubbing her eyes. Her mascara and eyeliner are still perfect, of course. But, her hair is slightly matted from napping on it.

I throw a pillow at her and she gets up slowly, grabbing her head and wobbling.

"I don't feel so good," she mumbles. "I feel like crap."

"You look like it, too," Bex replies with a small smile.

I see a glint of anger flash in Macey's brilliant blue eyes, clouding them, before she finally stumbles over to where I am standing next to Liz. We're all too tired to fight and we'd more likely collapse before we threw any punches.

* * *

I huff out a breath. Capturing Ms. Morgan is tricky business.

"Sir, do you think you could answer some of my questions about Cameron Ann Morgan?"

"Don't you have enough information on her already?"

"Not in my eyes, sir. We have planned plenty of missions already, but none have been successful," I reply.

"And that is not my fault. You are a trained operative. Figure out the kinks in your plans and solve it."

"But sir, if you could just tell us-"

"Do I have to remind you, again, that you should remember who you are talking to? I hope not. I gave you this task on _purpose. _We've been over this."

"But sir-" Before I can finish, he cuts me off.

"I will help you with one thing. I will send someone over to help."

I groan. If it's one of the spies from spy school, this could get messy. Let's just say, a lot of boys don't care who they hurt in the process of getting what they want. Or that girls shouldn't only be used for their bodies.

"Who is it?" I try to hide my displeasure.

"Keep the distaste from your voice," he snaps. "Just be glad I'm sending anyone at all. I'll send your old roommate that unfortunately," I hear an undertone in his voice. I flush, "was abandoned at Blackthorne before he could join you on the mission.

"Thank you, sir," I say slowly, unsure of what else to say. "But Nick has already joined us."

I smirk. Mr. Solomon doesn't know Nick is already in Roseville. I imagine his surprise on the other end of the phone when I told him that.

"Son?" Mr. Solomon's voice calls me back to the present. He must be pretty upset because he only calls me that when he's distressed.

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

"I will, sir. And Mr. Solomon, can I just ask you one question?"

"What is it?" He groans tiredly. I must be wearing on his nerves, never a good thing.

"Can you grant me clearance to the information on Gallagher Academy? According to Jonas, and myself after entering the building on grounds, that Ms. Morgan is residing there of this moment. I need to find out who she is."

I hear a huff of breath and a long moment of silence.

"Fine."

And yet another line goes dead. Why can't I ever have the last word?

* * *

**A/N- **

**Please review! This chapter was mostly fluff leading up to a bigger thing in the next chapter. :)**


	7. Mr Stalker

"Wow..." Liz breathes in awe. "Mr. Stalker guy was really hard to find. But what I did find on him is amazing..."

"Liz," growls Bex, "get on with it."

She sighs. "Alright." After a few quick taps to the computer, the whirring of the printer fills the small room and freshly printed sheets shoot out.

We rush to grab them. Liz was generous enough to print off copies for each of us. Flipping through the dense layers of pages in my hand, my eyes skim over the heavy text. We could keep reading for hours and not know everything.

"I can't believe how many pages there are," I say softly.

The girls nod in agreement.

I see Macey from the corner of my eye. She has a huge grin on her face.

"I'm so glad we're spies! This is _so_ much easier than asking!"

We all laugh. I don't think she'll ever get over how different the spy life is. Sometimes even _I'm_ impressed with what we get to use on missions.

Adrenaline is coursing through my blood and I'm almost shaking from the strain of holding in my excitement. I rush over to my bed and sit on the edge and my roommates do the same. We glance at each other before turning our gaze to the papers in hand. All of us are nervous about what we could discover.

Everything goes quiet except for the occasional shuffling of pages or the shifting of positions. My eyes pour over the information in my hands like they can't get enough. It's a lot to take in. A whole person's life is sitting in my hands; described in detail and secret. My stomach tightens and butterflies fly around in it. What if I don't like what I find out? What if my life really is in danger?

I breathe in slowly and let the trapped air escape through my teeth before my brain fully registers the information my eyes are picking up.

**Operative Zachary Goode**

**Codename:** Sly

**Parent(s)/Legal Guardian(s):**

Mother: Catherine Goode-MIA- Former Gallagher Girl & CIA agent  
Father: Unknown

**Field/R&D Track**: Field Operative

**Occupation:** Student at Blackthorne Institute for Boys

-Roommates:

Jonas Anderson: _R&D track, Codename: Hacker_  
Grant Newman:_ Field track, Codename: Greek God_  
Nick Cross: _Field track, Codename: Venom_

That's all the information on the first page. Flipping to the second and third, I see that it's more information on Zach's roommates. Just by glimpsing at the sheet, I can tell that Grant Newman gets in a _ton_ of trouble involving; pranks, black-mailing, missions, and my favorite: Girls.

He's such a pervert, but I'm not worrying about the fact that he was checking out Bex publicly without even appearing shameful or embarrassed. I know Bex can handle herself and can kick his ass easily without trying.

As I flip to the third page though and read over Jonas Anderson's information; it's pretty obvious he's Liz's type. He's super smart, and has hacked into numerous databases and designed security programs. In my opinion, he's boring.

From what little information I've read on him, I know on past missions Jonas would always stay behind in the van and only give information. He never went into depth with the action, never trying to participate fully. I skim over the information quickly, already bored and ready to uncover more facts about the mysterious Zach Goode.

Nick Cross is a whole different story. He's the type of guy that heads straight into the line of fire with no regrets. But he's also partly like Grant; he has had _many _girlfriends. I can't believe he got away with having so many relationships; while I got in trouble for having a civilian boyfriend named Josh.

On the fourth page the focus returns to Mr. Goode.

-Classes:

Covert Operations(CoveOps): _102.3%, comments- Top student and has all appropriate traits of spy. Will be an amazing operative in future years._

Protection and Enforcement(P&E): _101.2%, comments- Wonderful defense and offense skills. But has very little motivation._

Languages: _(completed during freshman year) 100%, comments- Very fluent tongue, can adapt to any dialect._

History of Espionage: _100%, comments- none_

Computing: _98.6%, comments- Has great talent at hacking. Grade was dropped lower due to black-mailing other students with discovered information._

Countries of the World: _100%, comments- Learns information in class, but attention is frequently distracted by roommates_.

I'm amazed that Gallagher Academy has more classes than the Blackthorne Institute. The whole page is dedicated to describing classes and the information taught in them. They are a lot like Gallagher's, but with a few minor adjustments. For example, in P&E the guys get to handle machine guns in sophomore year, while Gallagher girls aren't taught till senior year.

The fifth page is more detail on classes, and the sixth and seventh pages are related to teachers.

I stop scanning the page when I come to one very fascination name that I didn't expect; Mr. Solomon. I can't believe it. Mr. Solomon teaches at Blackthorne. None of us ever knew that. But it explains why he is always leaving partway through the day after teaching classes and coming back during supper. My roommates and I will have plenty to discuss- or more correctly; interrogate Mr. Solomon about.

On the eighth page it's about Zach's favorite things. I pray that Zach is majorly different than his roommates. Grant had girls on his favorite list, and Jonas had attending lectures. But as I read the text, I'm surprised. Zach and I have many things in common.

**Personal Preferences:**

-Food: Italian, Peanut M&M

-Color: Green

-Movie Type: Action and Comedy

-Class Subject: CoveOps

-Book: none

-Activity: Fighting in P&E, going on CoveOps missions

A bunch of random information and facts follow and none of it is useful.

The rest of the pages in my hand are about past and recent missions. The information it contains it really informative and I can't believe how much experience he has. He's completed 64 missions. I know now for a fact that Zachary Goode is dangerous.

When my eyes reach the bottom of the last page, I get a gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach. A shiver runs down my back and goose bumps appear on my arms.

Very little information is told, but from what I can tell, _I _am Zach's current mission objective.


	8. Masterpiece

I can only stare at the sheet in my hands, unmoving and unblinking.

Zachary Goode is coming for me. I'm his mission and he'll try to kidnap me until he succeeds.

Fear squeezes my chest tightly. I wrap my muscular arms around my abdomen, like I'm trying to hold myself together physically, while I'm trying to also do so mentally and emotionally. I won't let my emotions play with my mind, never again. Dating Josh taught me that hard lesson.

I always had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me Zach was dangerous, but am I overestimating him? Am I thinking irrationally? Does he even want to harm me at all? We are spies; we can handle an enemy spy. A hot, guy enemy spy is just a little trickier because hormones can become involved.

My arms loosen their hold. I shuffle around on my bed as my mind puzzles over everything I had ever seen or heard Mr. Goode do. I analyze every piece of data I can find in my brain.

My shuffling must have caused more motion or noise than I had intended because my roommates notice my distress. They watch me sympathetically, but they don't tell me everything will be okay. None of us know if it will be, and in our situation, saying something like that won't make any difference. I know my roommates will be here for me; to comfort and to listen.

As I stand unsteadily on my bare feet, I nod at the girls before entering the bathroom. A nice, long, hot shower will do me some good. I need something to help ease the stress from my tense muscles.

But as I am shutting the door behind me, I hear a soft ringing. I pause with my back against the door. My breath comes out slow and easy, but I can feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I listen closely to the next room. Footsteps shuffle around, obviously in search for the source of the noise.

We don't usually use cell phones because Gallagher has a signal blocker, and phones can be easy to track and are unreliable. In other words, it's a bad idea for spies to use any type of phone. But, it's one of the only ways we have contact with outside family members. Liz found a way around the system in freshman year, so we can use our own devices.

After a few moments of waiting behind the door, I head back into the main room. The girls are staring wide-eyed at the device now in Bex's hand. None of them notice me reenter the room. They're like statues; frozen in time and place.

Bex is pale and has a weird look on her face. Peering up the few inches to meet her height, I can see fear, shock, confusion, and anger in her eyes. She's gripping the phone tightly and her knuckles are turning white. I slowly approach her; unsure if the movement will set her off. As I get closer, the small cell phone screen becomes clearer.

I gently slide the phone for her fingers and they instantly ball into a fist, still raised in the air. Now that I have the phone in my own hand, I can get an even closer look. And I can tell why there is fear in our room.

It's a text message from an unknown number.

But am I the only one that knows who it is?

* * *

"Grant, this isn't a good idea," I insist.

"How do you know?" he shoots back. "Have you read the future in your crystal ball?" The sarcasm is dripping from his voice.

I feel my fists clench by my sides. I'm his boss on this mission and he should treat me with respect. Now I know how Mr. Solomon feels when I have attitude towards him at work.

"Look," I state, trying to reason with him. This is a terrible idea, and he knows it. But the longing to talk to a certain girl must be too much for him to handle. "I don't think it's the best idea for us to talk to civilian girls. We're on a mission and we have business to take care of. I don't want to start a relationship with a girl that can't develop into something more. I think it'd be best if we just left those normal girls alone."

"Come on, man! I know that I'm not the only one looking forward to seeing one of the girls..." Grant smiles a knowing smirk, the corner of his mouth moving up.

I freeze. Had my feelings been that obvious? No. My mask is unreadable.

"Just joking. But that one chick you were talking to... I could do her any day." He whistles softly.

I dig my nails into my rough palms. Grant better watch what comes out of his mouth next. One wrong move and I _will_ strangle him. It's odd. I have an overwhelming feeling about that girl. I'm just not sure what it is yet.

But what's even stranger is that I have the same feeling about Cameron Morgan; I want to keep her safe.

I point an accusatory finger at him and manage to growl out, "Fine. But if Mr. Solomon finds out he's not going to be happy. And I will tell him that it was your scheme and I wanted nothing to do with it."

"Whatever, dude." He replies smoothly before strutting to the bedside table and grabbing the small device. He flips open the cell phone and using the small scrap of paper next to it, he types in a number.

"I'll just send them a text asking if they wanted to meet up someplace or something," Grant says absent-mindedly while typing the message into the phone. After sending it, he's practically shaking with excitement. He's not very contained when it comes to girls.

I've had plenty of girlfriends before, and some have been more serious than others. The girls never stay for long; mostly for their safety and mine. But I never have a girlfriend or romantic interest while on a mission. It complicates everything and puts everyone in danger.

I used to think of girls as distractions that kept away the nightmares and fears of my life. But now I find them irritating and boring.

Why is this girl different?

* * *

After the fright of getting a text from a stranger, the girls huddle around me. I cautiously open the message. It could be from anyone, even though I have my suspicions. We've only given this particular number to certain people; the hot enemy guys from the hotel being one of them.

In small letters on the screen it reads:

_Did you want to meet us at a restaurant downtown? _

By now my roommates have calmed themselves. Color is returning to Bex's face. We send glances to each other. Finally they've figured out who this is. We aren't worried anymore. Enemy spies we can handle; strangers with the wrong phone number trying to hook up with us- not so much.

Macey snatches the phone from me and lightning-fast replies:

**_Why would we do that?_**

_Cuz we're hot? _

All of us giggle girlishly when we read that text. Guys have huge egos and this guy obviously isn't ashamed of thinking he's handsome.

"So true," Macey whispers under her breath before replying.

**_Whatever_**

_We could hang out and have dinner._

I know we don't even need to think this one over or discuss it. All of us already have a plan forming in our minds and the guys practically gave us the opportune moment. We needed to do some reconnaissance in town. Plus, hello? Hot guys?

**_Ok. We'll meet you there at 6 tonight._**

_Cool. Can't wait. Bring your hot friends with you :)_

Did I just read that correctly? He said bring your _hot _friends. My mouth falls open. Bex taps my chin and I close it with a snap. She gives me a nod; she knows what it means too.

**_See ya there. Bye_**

We stare at the phone. There is so much to do, so much to plan. We have to consider all the angles and prepare.

But none of that is on Macey's mind. She just grabs my arm and steers me towards her overflowing closet.

I sigh. I'm not getting out of this easily.

~:~

"Oh my God! Cammie you look amazing!" Liz squeals like a little girl.

"I know right! Cam, you look drop-dead gorgeous. Zach might just keel over," Bex teases.

Macey walks in a circle around me like a predator. She finally stops directly in front of me. The look on her face is appraising.

"You look awesome," she says simply.

I let the breath that I had been holding slip out. Macey is very serious about our beauty. If she approves, I won't have to go through another makeup session. I wasn't allowed to take any peeks in mirrors while I was being remodeled so I calmly walk over to the one on the wall by the door to see for myself.

A gasp escapes my lips. My roommates were right; Macey did wonders with me.

My deep red wig has been curled into soft waves that frame my face. Macey applied just the right amount of mascara and eyeliner to draw attention to my big, blue (contact covered) eyes. She didn't add anything to change my skin tone though. I have good skin and an even tan.

I take it all in for a few seconds.

"Come on," Macey says while dragging me towards her closet. Apparently I'm done checking myself out. She stops me just outside the door frame. "I'm not done with you yet."

She disappears inside the mass of clothes before reappearing with a lacy, cobalt blue tanktop in one hand. She flings it at my chest before running her fingers over some clothes on hangers. A pair of dark-washed skinny jeans hits me in the stomach and some strappy, black sandals hit my knees.

"Watch where you fling your stuff!" I yell at her.

In response I get a piece of metal flung at my face. It whips across my skin and a faint stinging radiates from the spot. It falls limply unto the clothes accumulating in my arms. Looking closer, I see that it's a silver heart necklace. I notice that theres a small snowflake crystal bracelet tangled with it.

Holding it up to my face, I shout to the next room. "What am I supposed to do with this? Strangle myself?"

Macey reappears in the doorway with a disapproving look on her face. Ignoring my earlier comment, she points to the stuff in my arms. "Change into that and wear that push-up bra from the other night."

"Whatever," I mutter before heading into the adjoining bathroom.

"And don't ruin my masterpiece!" She calls after me.

_What masterpiece? _

"The one on your face!" Macey adds for clarification. It's like she can read my mind or something...

Of course they put cameras in the bathroom. We are spies; it's what we do.

I shake my head disapprovingly and start tugging on clothes. Silently laughing, I readjust the silky top. I somehow managed to fit my head through one of the loose arm holes and I quickly fix my idiotic mistake.

Slipping my tanned legs through the jeans, I jump up and down until I can slide my hips in. The waist band digs into my hips and a faint tingling sensation is making its way through my legs but I shrug it off.

I pray that we don't encounter any situations requiring physical activity or are attacked. These skinny jeans restrain movement and the scarf tied around my neck is a welcoming gift for someone looking to choke me.

But, as I slip on the metallic, strappy sandals, I notice that a small dagger is inlaid in the bottom of my shoe. Nice; cute and deadly.

I gaze at the mirror hanging over the sink in the bathroom before rejoining my roommates. Under the bright light, I can see a light dusting of glittery white eye shadow when I turn my head. I hadn't noticed Macey apply it to my eyelids, but she somehow did. It brings out my eyes even more and matches my outfit perfectly.

The red mane of hair surrounding my face pops against the neutral colors of my clothes. Taking a comb out of the drawer, I drag it through the wig to work out the snarls and tangles. Spinning, I take my cover girl in. I look hot.

Yep, I definitely look hot enough to be a honeypot.

I drop the comb and it clatters to the tiled floor as realization dawns on me.

Is that what Macey's planning?


	9. Guard Your Heart

I apply a blank mask to my face and as I head back into the room; pretending the thought wouldn't dare cross my thoughts.

I don't do honey pot missions for a reason. The female agent who takes on the task of completing one almost always ends up intoxicated in the Subject's bed.

Doubt flickers through my mind. Macey would never plan something without telling me, would she? I trust her with my life, literally, and I know that she would never try to hurt me on purpose.

Unfortunately, my memory opposes my previous thoughts. Ever since I've met Macey, she's hidden secrets and the truth from me. We've had our moments and breakthroughs where we gain insight on the other's life and thoughts, but we never open up completely. We always keep a sliver of the deepest part of ourselves quiet and for ourselves.

I have trouble seeing myself connecting with anyone on such a vast scale that I would let slip my darkest secret. Of course I've told my friends about the cute guys that sometimes are in my every thought, or some of my larger, more embarrassing mistakes. But I'm a closed book. Like every spy, I have secrets and mine are meant to be kept.

* * *

My hands shake as I button up my crisp, collared shirt. I hate dressing up. The material irritates my skin and the sleeves limit my movement. Glancing in the mirror, I let out a huff of breath. I don't know if I am ready to start dating again. As much as my friends sometime doubt it, I have feelings under my cocky façade.

I've only had one real girlfriend, but the spy part of my life complicated the relationship. She noticed something different in my attitude and when she confronted me and I didn't answer, she ended it. I can't say I was happy to have her gone, it did sadden me.

Even before and after that relationship went south, though, I've used girls to distract myself. My sculpted features and my toned body are considered a prize by most women; no matter the age. Just by flashing a heart-melting smirk, most girls are ready to hop into bed with me, no questions asked. To them, I'm just a hot one-night stand. Very few question, much less care, about my outside life. Not being asked about my career saves a lot of lies, and for that I am grateful. I never educate them on this nasty life; the less civilians that I bring into the traumatizing spy world, the better.

That's why tonight is such a big deal. One wrong move and she could want to start a relationship I don't want. Or even worse, she'll see the version of me very few have every met.

Crossing to the other side of the room, I snatch my set of keys off the stained dresser. They jangle as I toss them from hand to hand, debating my next move. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. Who said I couldn't ride in style?

"Grant!" I yell to the next room, too lazy to walk the few feet to the doorway. I straighten my tie while I wait.

In the few seconds following an agitated sigh, he sticks his golden-haired head into the room.

"What?" He growls.

"I'll meet you guys at the restaurant. I don't plan on riding in the same car with you two," I reply smoothly, eyeing him pointedly.

Grant rolls his eyes. "Whatever," he mutters and disappears into the other room once again.

I quickly exit the hotel room before he changes his mind, not to say that would stop me from leaving. My dress shoes click on the tiled floor as I stride across the lobby, ignoring several females' following eyes. I make my way out a side door, making a blast of colder air blow in and ruffles my dark hair. I don't mind the messed up look; I've been told it makes me even sexier.

~:~

A small smile is on my face as I walk up to the gleaming chrome bike. The leather is slightly wet from the still falling snow. I brush off the glittering flakes and they fall gently to the snow-covered asphalt, while others stick to my hand. Wiping my cold hand on my jeans, I feel the tension ease a little from my muscles as I straddle my motorcycle.

I got the bike from Mr. Solomon as my seventeenth birthday present. Using some of my mechanical skills, I was able to get the baby running again. If I do say so myself, I did an amazing job and it looks hotter, especially with me riding it.

Just for grins, I rev the engine a little. I zoom out of the parking lot and down the main road. More snowflakes fly into my face with the added speed, but I don't care. Nothing will ruin this moment for me.

* * *

My foot impatiently keeps time on the slick ice beneath my feet and I let out a breath of frustration. My roommates and I have stood outside in the cold for the past 17 minutes and 39 seconds for the boys to arrive.

With every extra second that they don't come, Bex's biceps seem to tense even more and anger is written plainly on her face. To endure the torture of Macey's prepping for nothing is definitely angering.

Liz continuously twists one of her bouncy curls around her bony fingers in agitation.

Macey, on the other hand, is pure calm. She seems to be gazing at the sky in wonder and her lack of frustration makes a feeling of jealousy flash through my body. She's probably been in tons of situations like these. Macey practically exudes confidence and peace at the same time. I let out another huff of breath and this time I see it fog..

I watch it dissipate into the surrounding air, and as I am looking, movement from down the street catches my eye. Stepping out from under the awning onto the slush-covered curb, I watch a motorcycle cruise towards us. As it comes closer, I can't help staring.

Before my dad died, we used to compete to see who could invent the faster and better bike. It seems odd because I'm a girl, but I'm also a spy. The memory brings a smile to my lips.

The motorcycle nearing us is amazing. The rims are chrome and shine in the street lamps' glare. I can hear the engine's pur the closer it gets and the familiar noise brings a nostalgic feeling to my chest.

As the bike nears the front of the restaurant it slows considerably and a wall of slush and water is sent up onto the sidewalk. I jump back quickly to avoid it, but move closer again once it crashes to the cement.

Now that the bike is even closer, I can analyze all the parts and the overall newness and perfectness of it.

The rider notices me staring, and as he puts down the kickstand and dismounts, a smirk plays on his lips.

* * *

As I am nearing the restaurant where we planned to meet the girls, I see that the girls have already arrived.

I curse under my breath. I'm not worried that they'll think we're rude for making them wait so long. I had wanted to get here earlier so I could scope out the place. Now I'll be anxious the entire night about the possibility of another agent planning an attack.

I use my heel to put down the kickstand. As I unstraddle the body of my bike, I notice the girl I talked to at the hotel is watching me.

She is still standing on the curb and I feel a little bad for almost dousing her with water. But I brush off the feeling. She's obviously checking me out. I admit, I do like hot on my bike. I've been told numerous times by girls. But do I have good enough looks for her to keep staring? A smirk is present on my face as I walk towards her.

"Like what you see?" I ask cockily.

Her friends notice the smirk on my face and each reply with a scowl of their own.

"Yes," the red-haired girls answers. "Where did you get it?"

I notice the girls' shoulders behind her are shaking from contained laughter. A few chuckles and giggles erupt.

"Ummm... what?" I ask, confused. Is she seriously hinting...

She gives me an exasperated sigh and her eyes find mine. When she replies her voice is slow and cautious.

"Where did you get your bike? It's a really new model, obviously. I haven't seen one like it before." Her arm raises to point at the motorcycle behind me.

More giggles erupt from the three girls and my jaw almost drops open. She had looked at my bike the entire time, not my amazing body. Truthfully, I'm surprised. Not that she wasn't looking at me, though I had expected her to. I didn't expect her to be that type of girl who knew about motorcycles. Most girls are too scared to even get on one, let alone learn about them.

When I look back at her she's giving me a pointed look and her hands on her hips.

"Well? Are you going to answer my question?"

I brush off the feeling of embarrassment that wants to heat my face. Raising my hand I rub it through my hair and try to regain my confidence. Deciding to be nice for once, I answer as honestly as I can.

"I got it this year from my uncle. He knows how much I like them and I worked on getting all new parts."

"Seriously?"

I nod.

The look on her face is amazement and I can see the wanting in her eyes.

"Do... can..." She stutters out and her delicate complexion turns a beautiful shade of pink.

I let out a slow laugh. I'm glad I still have that effect on the ladies.

Closing her eyes, she lets out a stream of air. Opening them again, she tries to speak.

"Can I ride it?" Her brilliant eyes shine with a hope and I can't refuse her.

"Sure," I say casually, gesturing to the bike.

Her friends laugh, shaking their heads, and head inside the warmer restaurant. They each wave before going through the door. They don't want to be waiting anymore, now that she won't be with them. But before they leave, I notice the one Grant likes give her a serious look.

It also goes noticed by me that she replies with a small nod of her head. But as soon as she sees me watching her, a mask covers her features before regaining some of the amazement she had before.

"Really?" She asks, her voice full of astonishment.

"Why not?" I let out a small chuckle as she practically sprints the few feet to the motorcycle. Climbing on, she freezes in place and lets out a huff of air.

"Can I have the keys?"

This time I let out a laugh, a real one. Damn, she is cute. I want to stand there and watch her sitting on my bike, but I can see her growing impatient. I pull the set of keys out of my pocket and swing them around my index finger. They jangle and she motions for me to throw them.

I shake my head no. Instead I stride towards her and sit in front of her on the bike.

* * *

When he straddles the bike in front of me my heart almost stops. Riding the bike would be amazing in itself. But if he's going to be steering it's even better.

I feel him kick up the kickstand and rev the engine. It rumbles beneath my legs and my muscles relax some of their tension.

When the bike takes off a gasp escapes my lips. I have to grab a tight grip on his shirt to keep from falling off onto the cold pavement. I'm not worried about the impact of hitting the ground if I did, I'm more worried that he'd discovered my secret if I ended up doing a backflip off the seat of his bike. I doubt that'd go over well.

I hear and can feel his laugh reverberate through his back at my reaction. A small smile tugs at my lips and my face heats a little. He adds a burst of speed when we reach a side road with less traffic. I quickly wrap my arms around his abdomen to have a better hold and my hands can feel the firmness of his abs through the layers of clothing.

Even though I enjoy the ride and the nighttime tour around town, I don't let myself relax fully. The small town at night is beautiful, but I won't let the lights dull my senses. I can't let myself forget the possibility that the boy sitting in front of me is a killer. I have no doubt in my mind that my friends are as nervous as I am and are anxiously awaiting the time when I waltz back into the restaurant.

As we are heading down a street surrounded by little shops, we pass a couple about our age. I see Zach doesn't give them a second glance, but my attention is drawn to the two huddling in the cold. The girl shivers and in response, the boy hands her his coat. Is this a display of affection? I don't know the answer for sure but my heart longs to be that girl. I doubt I'll never have a boyfriend or a husband, my life prevents all romantic relationships. I'm glad my mom and dad are one of very few who found love and made it work with the missions and traveling.

My mind drifts as we stop at a stop light. The moment I could walk, my dad pulled me into the spy life and started training. Now that I think about it, I'm glad. Without the experience my dad gave me as a child, I would be dead and buried six feet under by now. I use the life lessons he gave me everyday in class at Gallagher and my awareness of strangers has saved my back more than a few times on CoveOps missions.

My grip tightens around Zach a little as I replay one of the best pieces of advice my dad ever gave me. A few years ago, I was a fool not to follow his words of wisdom, and I regret that choice. But I'll never forget the lesson I learned and I hope that I'll now be able to follow his advice more carefully.

_**Flashback**_

_"Cameron?" My father's voice echoes to me through the large gym. My small blonde head jerks towards the sound of his voice, my brown eyes searching for his face. _

_"Yes, daddy?" I reply when I finally spot the hidden face. While my back had been turned, he had disappeared over to the bubblers stationed on the wall near the entrance. His face is not yet red from the exertion of training his five-year old daughter, but his throat is cracked from explaining fighting stances._

_"Come here," he says. He gestures for me to come to him and I sprint to the other side of the gym. I haven't entered kindergarten yet, but I'm already smarter than most fifth graders. My legs are short, and pale in comparison to my elders, but I am as fast as a gazelle. _

_"What is it daddy?" I question. As much as I had liked spending time with my father, my young mind was eager to do other things. _

_He kneels and becomes eye level with me. Placing his hands on my shoulders, his familiar eyes stare back at mine and his face is set and serious. "I want you to promise me to always be smart."_

_"Of course, daddy. I already know how to-" _

_He holds up a hand to silence me before I started a ramble of knowledge kept in my innocent mind. "I didn't mean smart like that honey." _

_My brow wrinkles in confusion. My dad points to my heart and his eyes are full of love. "I meant with your heart and feelings. People don't deserve your loving heart. You are the only one who can let them in. And you have to promise me," he gives me a small severe look," that'll you always guard it."_

_I nod my head eagerly, not exactly sure what I was agreeing to yet. At the time, training plagued my thoughts the most. I didn't have to deal with teenage hormones and random thoughts about guys._

_"I want you to remember to always think before acting. Always ask before answering. Always think," he taps the side of my head," before using your feelings."_

_My head nods slowly, storing the information for later._

_"Sometimes anger can help us fight, but it can also make us weak and uncontrollable. Keep an eye on your feelings. Can you do that for me?" _

_"Yes, daddy. Of course I can."_

_He smiles a real smile. I got very few of those while training. I flash a grin and he pulls me into his muscular arms. As much as I hate to admit it, this was one of the last times I was ever hugged by someone who loved me. The last time I ever felt truly safe and wanted. But at the time, neither of us knew that._

_"That's what I like to hear," he whispers into my hair before kissing my temple._

_**Flashback**_

My eyes prickle with tears at the memory, and I curse myself again for letting my feelings control my thoughts. I give a start when I feel the bike slow, a shiver of fear rippling down my spine.

But I calm once I see we are once again at the restaurant. Quickly climbing off, I wait for Zach. I watch as he pulls the keys out of the ignition and unstraddles the bike. He cheeks are rosy from the wind and cold. His hair is slightly ruffled, and it becomes more so when he runs a hand through it. Glancing behind me at the restaurant, I realize that Macey was right; I did need to dress up for this place.

I sigh and move towards Zach. Standing on my tiptoes, I smooth down the uneven hair. Now I had accomplished something I had wanted to do for a while. And I had secretly wanted to see if it was as soft as it looked.

He gives me a weird look. I notice our close proximity and gulp before stepping back. A strange emotion fills his eyes and I can't place it.

I sputter for an excuse. I end up mumbling, "You can't go in an expensive restaurant looking like you just walked in randomly off the street."

Zach flashes me a grateful smile before I notice a guarded expression resume his features. I think he looks handsomer without his walls up, it gives him a small amount of innocence.

"I'm more than ready to get this night over with," he grumbles.

"Agreed," I murmur. He seems surprised for a moment that I heard him, but a small smile ghosts over his lips.

"I would've thought you like dressing up," he states, his gaze lingering on my top section before running down my legs.

"Stereo-type much?" I tease. "I hate wearing outfits like this." I gesture to my outfit. "It's so... not me."

He nods like he understands and gives me an appraising look.

"Shall we?" He smirks and holds out his arm.

I return the kind gesture with a smile and loop my arm through his.

Together, we walk through the gleaming glass doors.


End file.
